One of the things I've noticed in passing the gardens of the houses is that the French have some strange choices in their planting choices - or maybe it's just me. I don't profess to have an extensive knowledge of plants, but still the thought of planting a blue clematis beside a red azalea makes me cringe - possibly due to my personal hatred of the azalea plant.
But still there is one thing that I very much appreciate that the French do, or don't do rather. In almost every garden and yard there's at least one dandelion. Knowing the traditional fates of dandelions in Virginia I have kept a close eye on these dandelions. For the 4 weeks I have spent walking to class all of them have stayed where they are in gardens and yards - well, all save one. This makes me smile.
I've never been a huge fan of
dandelions but still it saddens me when my father talks about putting down weed killer or pulling them up. The fact that the French see them and respect them makes me never want to leave, makes me believe that if the dandelions can make it here then so could I!
But this is wishful thinking and I keep being told to be practical. Practical, I hate this word.
Dandelions don't seem to worry about practicality when they set root in gardens just as easily as the cracks in the sidewalk. No, their only worry is survival. There is one dandelion in particular that I walk by every day that's managed to grow to a size big enough to draw a "Wow!" out of me.
I've told myself for days that I am going to take a picture of it and for days I've forgotten my camera. Today I finally remembered and took a picture of the dandelion, now past its bloom. But that doesn't seem as important to me as the fact that it's still there, still growing.
But still there is one thing that I very much appreciate that the French do, or don't do rather. In almost every garden and yard there's at least one dandelion. Knowing the traditional fates of dandelions in Virginia I have kept a close eye on these dandelions. For the 4 weeks I have spent walking to class all of them have stayed where they are in gardens and yards - well, all save one. This makes me smile.
I've never been a huge fan of
dandelions but still it saddens me when my father talks about putting down weed killer or pulling them up. The fact that the French see them and respect them makes me never want to leave, makes me believe that if the dandelions can make it here then so could I!But this is wishful thinking and I keep being told to be practical. Practical, I hate this word.
Dandelions don't seem to worry about practicality when they set root in gardens just as easily as the cracks in the sidewalk. No, their only worry is survival. There is one dandelion in particular that I walk by every day that's managed to grow to a size big enough to draw a "Wow!" out of me.
I've told myself for days that I am going to take a picture of it and for days I've forgotten my camera. Today I finally remembered and took a picture of the dandelion, now past its bloom. But that doesn't seem as important to me as the fact that it's still there, still growing.
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